


Green

by wednesday



Series: Writing Rainbow [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Author Took Physics Out Back And Mugged It For Terrible Ideas And Pseudoscientific Nonsense, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - In Hushed Whispers, Inquisitor Tony Stark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: Dorian would prefer discussing magical theory when not stuck in the wrong time.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Tony Stark
Series: Writing Rainbow [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472090
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35
Collections: Writing Rainbow Green





	Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fluorite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298829) by [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday). 



> Set a couple of weeks after their meeting in [Fluorite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298829).

“Wait, stop, so this thing definitely works the branching parallel worlds way?”  


“The–? I’m not sure I follow,” Dorian says. The distracted expression on Stark’s face would be a bit insulting, if Dorian wasn’t used to it. In the short time he’s been acquainted with Stark, he’s seen it often. It probably _heralds_ some unexpected solution to their inconceivably dire situation or another string of words that make no sense to anyone but Stark. Dorian really hopes it’s the former this time, even if the frustrated expression on Stark’s face when no one understands him can be quite entertaining.  


“This thing works by quantum-propelling us into a different universe not somehow turning time forward, right? Though how does it– how do you even make it go _forward_ , the probability of calculating the right branch for anything in the _future_ would be––”  


Stark wanting to understand time magic is flattering, but better left for any other time, when they aren’t trapped in a future where the world has unraveled. No matter how monumental it is to see his theory used in practice, right now Dorian would much prefer being alive than being right.  


“Is this the best time to discuss theory? We’re in a bit of a bind here, in case you haven’t noticed.” Dorian kicks one of the dead guards at their feet for emphasis. Not too hard, though, because he has no wish to find out if whatever is making them glow faintly red is contagious. The red growths on the walls make him suspect the answer is _yes, very_.  


“Humor me. Branching simultaneous timelines, yes or no?”  


“Yes, put very simply, that is part of how the spell works. Not a way I would have described it, though.” Honestly, Stark’s ability to grasp complicated magical theory has so far been incredible, for a mage with no formal training and that Southern superstitious hatred of everything magical. Dorian has yet to find an appropriate moment to inquire about Stark’s education, all he knows is it doesn’t come from a Circle.  


“Now, we must find Alexius and get the amulet from him. I’m certain I can get us back, if I have it.” Probably. He can probably get them back.  


“That’s a bad plan,” Stark says and starts talking faster when Dorian draws a deep breath to argue. “Okay, it’s a good plan generally, but not _now_ now. The energy used to get us all the way here – and you said it, this wasn’t the intended result, if we try your to-go sized quantum accelerator right this minute...” Stark stops like the conclusion should be obvious. It takes Dorian a few moments to figure out what he’s hinting at.  


“The instability in the fabric of time.”  


“Exactly! The fluctuations created by us getting thrown out here would interfere. We need to wait, what, an hour? Two? Before the waves should be stable enough for us to have a reasonable chance of getting back to the right universe.”  


“That, well, you’re not wrong.” It’s not something Dorian’s ever considered, the messy practical details of repeated time travel, since it was all supposed to be theoretical. He can’t quite wrap his mind around the fact Stark, this strange Fereldan apostate of all people, did think of it. “We still need to get the amulet from Alexius.”  


“And then what, spend an hour leisurely running from every cultist within ten miles of this castle?”  


“What do you propose? I suppose we can stand around in this lovely half flooded dungeon.” Dorian is half tempted to continue with a suggestion or two on what they could do while they wait down here. A man that can surprise him with magical theory like that – it makes his heart race. But, well, he’s been trying this new thing recently, showing restraint and focusing on other things, all in the interest of saving the world. It’s been absolutely miserable since he met Stark, who manages to be everything Dorian wants in a man and everything he should absolutely not touch at the same time.  


“That secret tunnel our back-up used to get into the castle, it’s not far from here. We could wait there.”  


“Lead the way, then.”  


Stark turns around and steps over a dead guard on his way to the door. The sight of him going into battle with no weapon or even a staff still startles Dorian, and he’s heard enough grumbling from Stark’s companions to know he’s not alone in the feeling.  


They have to sneak past another group of guards that Stark deems would make too much noise if attacked. Eavesdropping on them turns out quite useful – they find out Alexius’ general location. The guards also mention prisoners, and Dorian sees Stark’s face harden.  


He doesn’t change their course, however, and leads Dorian to what looks like a plain stone wall at first glance. The hallway it’s in looks more dusty and abandoned than the rest of the castle, so their chances of staying undiscovered here are good.  


Stark pushes one of the stones and a section of the wall opens into a doorway.  


“We’re going through the cells before we–” Stark starts talking the moment they are safely inside the hidden room leading to the tunnel. He’s interrupted by the sound of the wall closing behind them. “Please tell me that was you.”  


“Unfortunately no.” Dorian examines the wall; there are no signs of tampering on the switch that opens and closes the wall from this side. “I don’t – Oh.”  


“Oh? I don’t like that oh, that sounds like a bad oh.”  


“That depends on how fond you are of being trapped here.” Dorian gestures at the barely visible in the low light magical trap painted on the floor. “My guess is this tunnel is no longer as secret as it used to be.”  


He doesn’t recognize most of the words that come out of Stark’s mouth, but the ones he does know are all unsuitable for polite company.  


“I hate magic.”  


“Yes, I had gathered that.”  


“Do your thing, get us out of here.” Stark gestures vaguely at Dorian’s staff in case Dorian is unclear of what ‘thing’ Stark wants him to do, exactly. Considering the specific trap they’re standing on, however, Dorian has to focus to keep himself from giggling madly.  


“Ah, well.”  


Stark catches on quickly, sighs, and asks, “What is it? Lay it on me.”  


Dorian takes a deep breath. It shouldn’t be funny. It isn’t, really, and he’s sure most of the amusement is some kind of warped panic. There should be some limit to how many impossible things can happen to him in a single day.  


“One way to deactivate it is by blood magic,” Dorian says to buy himself some time before he has to explain the other way. “It would require about four people’s blood. All of it. It’s a rough estimate, of course, as I’m not exactly an expert on blood sacrifice.”  


Stark makes a face, as expected, but by now Dorian suspects the distaste is for magic in general not for blood magic specifically. Curious, considering Southern kill on sight policy on maleficars.  


“I’m noticing a lack of volunteers for that one. What’s behind door number two?”  


“Sex.”  


“Expand on that.” Stark chooses then to stop being distracted by the fascinating floor decoration. His gaze on Dorian feels like a physical weight. It stops him from making a joke and he gives as straight an answer as he can.  


“The magic required to break the trap can be fueled by sex. Simply put, we need to have sex to get out of here.”  


Stark keeps looking at him silently for a couple of moments, and then –  


“I would give you points for creativity, but that line actually _has_ been used on me before,” Stark says and smirks in an exceptionally salacious way. Whatever response Dorian expected, it was not this. His face must show some of what he’s feeling, as Stark takes a step closer and raises his hands in an attempt to placate him.  


“Okay, no joking, got it. That wasn’t a lie, by the way, but this is the first time the magic is real.”  


Dorian flounders for a moment. He isn’t sure how to answer. Despite Stark’s sometimes infuriating tendency to talk in a manner that would be considered flirting from anyone else, Dorian was expecting some kind of loud and emphatic refusal. He didn’t predict Stark would just not take him seriously.  


“I’m sensing you have objections to the really real sex magic solution.” The way Stark says it sounds like a question, and his voice has less edge than usual.  


“ _I_ have no objections to it.” Dorian means to explain the magical principles the trap uses to make sure Stark understands the distinct lack of options they have, or perhaps he might surprise Dorian with yet more unexpected insights and find another way out. He doesn’t get the chance, though.  


“Good. Great. Glad we cleared that up,” Stark says and somehow manages to sound both teasing and frenetic at the same time.  


Then he closes the space between them and kisses Dorian. It doesn’t start slow at all, instead it feels like the kind of kiss one can only have while naked and in bed, behind closed doors. They have that last part down, at least.  


Stark puts his hand on the back of Dorian’s head, slides his fingers into his hair and tugs to adjust the angle and, _oh_. Dorian shivers and makes an unmistakably pleased sound that he’s not even embarrassed about. The cold stone dungeon doesn’t stop him from feeling too hot, so hot he feels severely overdressed.  


He pulls Stark closer by his armor and Stark answers by deftly undoing the one buckle that actually holds most of Dorian’s outfit together. Then to Dorian’s displeasure he breaks the kiss and leans back.  


“Wait, hold on, what are the specifics?”  


“The specifics.” Dorian blinks a couple of times to clear the dizziness from his head. “What?”  


“Do we have to do anything specific, any preferred position for this sex magic thing or...”  


“Oh. No, nothing specific, this is –” _regular sex magic, even an apostate like you should know how this works_ , he means to say. Stark kisses Dorian’s neck, though, and what he was going to say next disappears in the familiar thrill of skin against skin.  


Even the sense of impending doom Dorian’s been feeling since they arrived in this time doesn’t have the power to ruin this for him.


End file.
